arlington national cemetery

I can’t think of Memorial Day without my family being up front and center. We were lucky, every single one of them (nearly two dozen) came home (at least in the most recent wars) — whether it was WWII, Korea, Vietnam, and any of the subsequent wars fought in the Gulf.

Great-Uncle Howard landed at Normandy — he was lucky and part of the second wave. His brother Builo came home and enrolled in high school to finish his senior year and graduate when he was 21. These stories are always close to me, as they are the stories I heard over and over growing up. They might not have liked what they had to do, but they went and did it. Never complaining. And yes, they knew how lucky they were to be able to come home when so many they served with were left behind.

My father-in-law is buried at Arlington National Cemetery. It’s a stark reminder every time we visit his grave, steps away from Section 60 where there are no admirals or generals, just the men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country.

From the Tuskeegee Airmen graves we visit so my son knows their story and importance, to the extraordinary civilians who also gave their lives, including the 184 who died in the 9/11 attacks on the Pentagon and those onboard American Airlines Flight 77. Section 1 holds the Lockerbie Memorial Cairn dedicated to the victims of Pan Am Flight 103. We pay our respects at Section 46 where the comingled remains of the Space Shuttle Challenger is memorialized and I relive the shock and horror of my childhood, watching the explosion on the television in my classroom at Carver Middle School. I have wept at the grave of Medgar Evers and pray that one day, civil rights for everyone will exist and we will all be equals in the eyes of our beholders.

Instead of a cookout and celebration, I’ll dust the case holding the flag that sits on top of my bookcase. I’ll think about these people I loved so deeply and I will think about and pray for their comrades who didn’t come home. The debt we owe our fallen heroes is one we can never truly repay.

Notable People Buried at Arlington:

Robert Todd Lincoln, son of Abraham Lincoln, is buried in Section 31.

John F. Kenney and Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

Medgar Evers – Civil-rights leader who was shot outside of his home in Mississippi in June 1963.

Samuel Dashiell Hammett, author of “The Maltese Falcon” and “The Thin Man” is buried in Section 12. Hammett is also a U.S. Army veteran of World Wars I and II

Actors Audie Murphy, Lee Marvin, Jackie Cooper and Charles Durning

Glenn Miller — noted composer, arranger, trombonist, and Big Band leader. has been missing in action since Dec. 15, 1944. At his daughter’s request, a stone was placed in Memorial Section H, Number 464-A on Wilson Drive in Arlington National Cemetery in April 1992.

Anita Newcomb McGee is buried in Section 1. In 1898, she was the first woman to be appointed as the Acting Assistant Surgeon in the U.S. Army and was in charge of the Army’s nurses under the Army Surgeon General’s Department. She pursued the establishment of a permanent nursing corps, which became the Army Nurse Corps.

Ludwig Bemelmans – Author and illustrator, best known author of the “Madeline” children’s books

James Parks is the only person buried in the cemetery who was also born on the property. Parks was a former slave who had worked at the Arlington House and later became a cemetery caretaker, likely burying thousands of service members. He died in 1929 and is buried in Section 15.

Joe “Louis” Barrow “The Brown Bomber” – held the title of Heavyweight Champion of the World longer and defended it more times than any other boxer in history. As a sergeant during World War II, he donated $100,000 to Army and Navy relief efforts and fought 96 exhibition matches for more than 2 million troops. (Section 7A, site 172).

President William H. Taft is also buried there with his wife, Nellie. Taft was the 27th president of the United States and later served as the nation’s 10th chief justice — the only person to have served in both offices. Mrs. Taft was instrumental in bringing the Japanese Cherry Blossoms to the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C.

We buried my father-in-law, Fred, Tuesday at Arlington National Cemetery. He now shares something in common with great people who will be remembered throughout history, people like John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy, Medger Evers, and Charles Durning.

Today is Independence Day. The grand day all over the United States where we listen to John Philip Sousa, eat hamburgers and hot dogs, and then, after it turns dark, blow things up.

I’m not really celebrating today. Oh, I cooked for my family, watched the fireworks on TV, and shared some laughs. But my thoughts keep going back to graves and to the flag sitting in our house that was given to us on behalf of the President of the United States by a young man, dressed in blue woolen dress clothes, as he kneeled on one knee on a 90 degree day in July.

Ours was a simple ceremony by Arlington’s standards. We were led on the grounds in a procession to the funeral pavilion, with the lead car carrying Fred’s cremains. As we pulled up, there were soldiers waiting on us – all in these same dark woolens, shoes shined so much the sunlight bouncing off of them hurt your eyes. As two soldiers took Fred out of the car, carrying him to the pavilion, all were at attention, saluting this man I had loved and adored for nearly 17 years.

As we walked to our seats, out of the corner of my eye, a young man in green woolens, a lone bugler, between the columns, standing in salute, waiting for his moment to play the haunting sounds of Taps.

I don’t remember much what was said during the service, nor of the service itself — I remember the young men, dressed in their finest, unfolding the flag of the United States, heels clicking, with movements so precise it was as if I were seeing brain surgery. They stood, holding the flag to shadow Fred’s cremains — I can’t remember if there were eight or ten — honoring a man they’ve never met and just one of the 20 or so families in mourning they’d see that day. I remember jumping and losing my breath when the volley started — the soldiers who’d greeted us were shooting into the sky, giving Fred one last salute.

And then, the young boy, who couldn’t have been much older than 25, presenting my mother-in-law with a flag. Then we were asked by the Chaplain if any of us would like to carry Fred’s remains to his final resting spot.

This is what I do remember, clearly:

For as long as I live, I’ll never forget my husband saying “I’ll take him,” standing up, and with two hands, gently cradling the remains of his father, carrying them on the walk to his final placement. He held him like he held our newborn son. His shoulders stooped, his face masked in deep determination, love, and pain, as he made that walk. It wasn’t far, only a hundred or so steps. But each step behind him made me see him in a new light — one I’d never seen him in — and gave me insight I’m not even sure I had ever fathomed in this man I’ve been married to for nearly 15 years. He placed Fred is his vault as gently as you’d lay a sleeping newborn down — I still don’t have words for what I saw — I can only describe it to you now.

My mother told me afterwards, “You always want to be able to do one final thing for your parents. You’re biggest regret in life is if you’re not able to.” That’s what he did. Fred brought him lovingly home from the hospital, and Tony placed Fred lovingly in his final resting place here on this earth.

During the service, Chaplin Jenks told us (paraphrased) “The men and women buried here supported their country when it needed them most. We honor them by caring for them throughout eternity.” There he’ll lay, with Presidents, Civil Rights Leaders, Generals, Movie Stars, common men and women, all of them Freedom Fighters with one thing in common, that they served to honor and protect the flag of the United States.

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Meet Lisa

Lisa Frame is an over-achieving Southern gal with a knack for Pinterest and making people laugh. She writes about life, food, culture and travel. Lisa is a very amateur photographer, voracious reader, wanna-be neat freak, and closeted crafter.